Page 2 of Dirty Doctor
My head begins to spin, so I sit back and close my eyes. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, I’m being shaken awake. And when I open my eyes, I groan out loud.
“Am I in hell?” I blurt, feeling unusually happy and content, like I’m floating away.
Luke scowls, andgods,when did he get so grown up? I hate how attractive he is—I always have. I resented him in high school because all my friends wanted to be around him. And I resent him now, because the way he’s looking at me makes my stomach dip down to a place it should never go whilst looking at my stepbrother.
Dark hair, dark eyes, a heart-shaped face with a jawline to kill for, luscious pink lips, and biceps that are bigger than my thighs stretch against his white coat. And that’s saying a lot because my thighs are quite large. His scruff is tinged with silver, too, and it accentuates the golden glow of his skin.
Stop thinking about him like that, Langley.
“I’m afraid not,” he snaps, frowning down at me. “You’re high on morphine because you hit your head and nearly cracked it open on the asphalt.”
I smile, stretching my arms above my head. “I can see why we have a drug problem in this country. This is amazing.”
His brows furrow. “Are you making a joke out of opioid addiction?”
I roll my eyes. “Didn’t medical school teach you how to take a joke?”
His dark, coffee-colored eyes bore into mine, his nostrils flaring just a bit. I know that’s because he’s annoyed with me.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” he says, his voice rumbling out of him in a sensual, masculine sort of way.God, what is in this stuff?He flips my file open, frowning at whatever he’s looking at. The front part of his hair is messy, as if he’s been running his hands through it all day. I can tell from his stiff posture that he’s exhausted, and I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to see.
“Langley, you fainted because you have very low blood sugar. I ran some other tests, and for a twenty-seven-year-old, the results don’t look good. Not only is your blood sugar low, but your blood pressure is high. You’re also undernourished, deficient in most vitamins, and you have a mild case of the flu.” He looks over at the chair with my purse. “Since when did you start smoking?”
My mouth opens and closes in surprise, trying to digest his words as my mind spins like a carousel.
“I don’t smoke.” Even high as a kite, I can tell I don’t sound convincing. Luke walks over to my purse and taps the edge of the cigarette pack sticking out.
Well, fuck.
His clenched jaw is going to break a tooth soon if he doesn’t stop glaring at me like that. “I don’t think I have to tell you how unhealthy cigarettes are,” he says gruffly.Angrily.Why does he care? If I die early, he can continue being our family’s golden child. Luke sighs loudly and looks down at my chart again. “I think I should keep you for another night or two. Redraw lab tests tomorrow to see if there’s an improvement.” He looks me in the eyes and something akin to worry washes over his features. It makes my chest ache, and I swallow.
Even though I know he’s probably punishing me for some reason—some unforgotten grudge—I acquiesce, “Okay.”
He closes my file and leans against the wall. How is it fair that he looksthat goodin dark blue dress pants and a white coat? Seeing him in the flesh like this, with a little help from my friend morphine…
I look away as his eyes pin me to the spot. There’s something sad in his expression, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel. It’s something more profound than pity. If we ever had a chance to form a genuine relationship, perhaps he would look at me like that more often. Instead, our relationship, as it stands, comprises flared nostrils and rolled eyes.
“I want you to eat,” he says after a minute, crossing his arms so that the white fabric strains against his biceps. He’s using his stern doctor voice—the one that reverberates through me. “And drink water.” He nudges his jaw to the tray next to my bed. “If you want more food, just ring the nurses. You must be starving.”
I nod just as my stomach grumbles. “I am.” He doesn’t look convinced, so I roll my eyes. “I eat, just so you know,” I snap quickly. “I guess I don’t have the best diet.”
“What about vitamins, exercise, sunshine—with sunscreen if it’s longer than fifteen minutes?” he adds, still glowering at me. I don’t appreciate his condescending tone, though.
I think about the bottle of multivitamins I have stored in my medicine cabinet—the one I bought over two years ago, with good intentions. But who has the time to take vitamins every single day? I can barely remember to put on mascara and eat before leaving for work, let alone take a few horse-sized pills.
“Umm…” I trail off. “I got into the bad habit of skipping breakfast during grad school,” I add defensively.
“I think you’re due for some lifestyle changes, Langley. You’re on a dangerous trajectory. You need to eat real food on a regular basis, take your vitamins, and start exercising.” His eyes flick to my purse. “If I ever catch you with cigarettes again, I’ll tell Helena about your nasty little habit. Do you understand?”
My cheeks heat with shame at his threat to snitch on me about the cigarettes. We both know it would break her heart. I feel like I’m fourteen again—like he’swatching me,waiting for me to fuck up. He took one look at my chart and declared me a loser. Why bother trying to change his mind?
“You’re a lot meaner than I remember,” I add, feeling petulant from the drugs. I just want him to leave so I can enjoy the orange Jell-O by myself.
He laughs cruelly, rubbing his lower lip as he looks away. “I need to get to my other patients,” he murmurs. “I’ll come check on you later.”
I nod. “Can I at least have more morphine?” I ask.
He shoots me a death glare before pulling the door open and leaving without another word.
